


In My Dreams

by aplainsimpletailor



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hugh needs a hug, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, catatonic paul, set somewhere between s1e09 and s1e10, some weird twist idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-23 23:28:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13798590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aplainsimpletailor/pseuds/aplainsimpletailor
Summary: In which Hugh Culber has a rude awakening of sorts.





	In My Dreams

Paul rapped his PADD stylus against his forehead. "Computer. What song is this?"

"The song currently playing is 'Think of Me', from Andrew Lloyd Webber's 'The Phantom of the Opera', Webber's 1986 A.D. musical adaption of the French novel by Gaston Leroux."

A long, loud groan escaped Paul's lips as he rolled his eyes as far back into his skull as he could. He found this...music...far too high-pitched and screechy.

Once his eyes returned to their proper position facing outwards, Paul's gaze returned to the document displayed on his PADD.

'How am I supposed to get any work done like this?' Paul pondered silently.

He had never been able to completely focus and commit to his work when there was background noise. Especially loud background noise.

Unfortunately, Hugh was not the same.

He would almost always play music and sing along to it when he was in the shower. He would play music when he was doing research and working. He would hum an off-key tune everywhere he went. (Paul had to admit, though, he was grateful that Hugh had always been a hummer...how else would they have met?)

"Can it be? Can it be Christine? Bravo!" Hugh practically shouted over the music and the background whir of the sonic shower he was taking. What ever happened to soundproof walls?

'I knew he was a screamer, but this is a bit much,' Paul thought to himself.

"What a change! You're really not, the gawkish girl that once you were-"

"Computer," the computer hummed in acknowledgement of Paul's voice, "lower volume to forty decibels." Paul didn't know why he hadn't thought of that sooner. A genius, indeed.

'Problem solved,' he thought triumphantly.

"Hey!" Hugh yelled, and the whir of the sonic shower ceased.

Not a minute later, Hugh traipsed out of the restroom in a white bathrobe and matching white slippers.

"No Kasseelian opera this time?" Paul inquired.

"I thought I'd try something new. It's not from a real opera, but it sounds nice regardless," Hugh then frowned, "I was enjoying it."

"I'm enjoying this article now that I can hear myself think."

"You're still working? Gamma shift ended forty minutes ago."

"Hugh, we're so, so close to making a breakthrough - the navigation of the mycelium network..." Paul had to restrain himself from going more in depth on the topic. He was pretty sure he had already told Hugh every single minute detail about his work with mycelium countless times, and each and every time, he doubted Hugh understood most of what had come out of his mouth, but he was grateful that Hugh was still all ears. Or at least he seemed to be. "There's no time to not be working with how close we're getting to our goal."

…

Though, Hugh never actually minded when Paul would rant. Hugh loved seeing the way Paul's eyes would light up and get all starry when he talked about his passions, which, were more often than not mushroom related, and while Hugh understood the very basics on the subject of astromycology, he would still find himself failing to comprehend a majority of the words that would come out of his partner’s mouth. But still, Hugh thought that being able to travel anywhere and anytime sounded pretty frickin' cool regardless.

"It's all about finding a balance. You pay way more attention to your work than you do to yourself. A little healthy relaxation will not complicate your research. I wish you'd just take some vacation time.”

Paul growled, "I'll be able to relax when the spore drive is operating at full capacity and we're traveling the mycelial network with no problems. For now, I need to focus. I need to work."

Hugh sighed. After this long, he knew full well that there was no real point in talking to Paul about how much he worked, although it's not like that makes it any less concerning when Hugh finds Paul struggling to stand after working for nearly twenty hours straight. Maybe one day, Paul will truly awaken and consider Hugh's words.

Fat chance, but there's nothing wrong with being optimistic, right! And besides, the more Hugh nags and nags, the higher and higher the chances of Paul actually listening become.

Though, Hugh’s been nagging at the astromycologist to develop healthier work habits for many moons now.

"Well, alright fun guy, I guess I'll let you keep working for now. But if I catch you working for much longer, I may need to issue some doctor's orders for a little vacation time," Hugh wiggled his eyebrows (Paul cringed at the remark) before letting out a yawn, "I'm going to change into my pyjamas. I've been feeling so exhausted lately. I don't know if it's because I'm getting old or what." Paul would have given a slight chuckle if he hadn't realised that if Hugh was getting old, that meant he was getting old too.

Hugh reentered the restroom, set his slippers down next to the door, and pulled his neatly folded undergarments and ruby-coloured pyjama set down from the faux wood shelf, positioned adjacent of the sonic shower. As he was taking his time, leisurely slipping out of his robe, the door chime rang.

"Can you get the door, Paul?" Hugh called.

"I can't, I'm reading!" The astromycologist called back.

Hugh grumbled and, in a mad dash, threw on his underwear and pyjamas and donned his slippers once again, before scurrying to the door and pressing the 'open' button.

"Doctor Culber."

"Specialist Burnham," Hugh furrowed his brow, a bit taken aback by Michael's sudden appearance at his and Paul's quarters, "How may I...help you?"

"Doctor Culber." She repeated his title and name once again, louder than previously.

"Is everything alright? You don't need medical attention, do you?"

"Doctor Culber." Hugh was confused and concerned. He had no idea why Michael had come to his quarters. He had no idea why she wasn't speaking. Well, she was, rather she was saying nothing more than his title and name. He had no idea if she needed his help or not. Though, if she was unwell or injured she should've gone straight to sickbay. There were other medical personnel that could aid her with whatever she may need. So, why did she come here?

Hugh swallowed, "What's going on, Burnham?" Hugh turned and looked back into his quarters, wondering why this interaction had not yet caught Paul's attention, only to find that Paul was nowhere to be seen. A coldness scratched at Hugh's body as he began to panic.

***

The Doctor stirred.

"Doctor Culber." Michael was beginning to lose patience.

She had stopped by sickbay, curious of Lieutenant Stamets' condition and the efforts being made to aid him in his catatonic state, only to find Doctor Culber fast asleep in his booth.

Michael sighed, eyes shifting to the PADD tightly held in between the Doctor's fingers.

She hummed, reaching for and freeing the PADD from Doctor Culber's grip.

Hugh's eyes opened.

"Good evening, Doctor Culber."

"Oh. Oh! Specialist Burnham. I'm so sorry if I kept you waiting," Hugh yawned, "How long have you been waiting?" Hopefully, she hadn't been watching him sleep on the job. Or just watching him sleep in general.

"Not long at all, Doctor. Perhaps, a couple of minutes at most," Michael explained, "So, no, you did not keep me waiting. I apologise if I gave that impression."

"No, it's not your fault. I shouldn't have been dozing," Hugh rubbed his eyes, "Is everything alright? Do you need any assistance?"

"I do not need any assistance, thank you. I had actually come by due to my own curiosity. I was curious if you had made any progress with Lieutenant Stamets."

"No...I'm afraid we haven't been able to...bring him back. He's unresponsive to any and everything we try. The most we've gotten out of him is when he'll say some nonsense about a 'palace' or 'the enemy'."

A silence fell upon the two as they turned and looked over at Stamets, inspecting him, laid on the sickbay bed, eyes glassed over, nearly motionless behind the containment field.

Michael broke the silence, “What made you choose sickbay as your ideal place of rest?”

Hugh blinked, “Well…long shifts, I guess. I’ve been here since…” he paused and thought for a moment, “I can’t recall when.”

"You didn't want to leave him, did you?"

Hugh thought for a moment, slowly dragging his tongue over his lips. Curse her brilliance. "No. No, I couldn't. It wouldn't be the same sleeping in our quarters without him. It wouldn't even be the same just being in our quarters without him. Even doing little every day things wouldn't feel the same. It's silly, but we even brush our teeth together. We've grown so used to each other that when we do even something small like that, we're synchronised. Things, no matter how big or small, feel better when you do them with someone you love. That's how I feel when I'm with Paul. It just doesn't feel the same without him."

"Yes...I know what you mean." Michael quietly agreed.

"I just couldn't risk leaving. What if something happened? What if he...'woke up'? Or-or what if his condition deteriorated? What kind of doctor or partner would I be if I just left him? I want to be here for him. I need to be here for him. Even before you woke me up, I was dreaming about him. Some memories of him hating my taste in music and me trying to get him to quit working so much," Hugh looked down, smiling a weak smile and laughing a breathy laugh, looking back up teary-eyed, "I even miss his pride, grumpiness, and brashness...I just want him back from wherever he is in that big head of his."

"You always find a way to help everyone here on Discovery. I have no doubt that you'll be able to find a way to bring him back. And while that might not be tomorrow, or the day after, or even the day after that, you will find a way to save Lieutenant Stamets. I know this is breaking you down in ways I can not even begin to comprehend, but for now, you need to focus, and think, and find that way, whatever it may be. You have the whole Discovery crew behind you supporting you and helping you whenever we can, myself included. We're keeping the two of you in our thoughts as we try to find a way back home. So, please, don't cry. I know Lieutenant Stamets would not want to see you cry. None of us do. And I am sure that Lieutenant Stamets would also not want you to try to sleep all cramped up in your booth."

Hugh sniffled, gaze not leaving Paul. He was thinking.

"I am not sure how much words can help you right now, and while everything that came out of my mouth sounded incredibly cliché, I do also believe that it's the truth." Michael added.

Hugh looked at Burnham, and gave her a meek smile, "I suppose your outlook is...encouraging. Thank you."

***

The sheer amount of the fully grown Prototaxites stellaviatori surrounding him took Paul's breath away.

No, seriously. Paul couldn't breathe.

Paul was choking on all of the spores that were fluorescing and dancing around him. 

Once the gleaming spores finally dislodged from Paul's esophagus, thanks to a rather violent coughing fit, Paul was able to fully take in his surroundings, examining the breathtaking P. stellaviatori. 

He found them to be beautiful.

Though, he had to admit, he would have found them to be much more beautiful if he knew just where in the known universe he was.

"Hello?" Paul hesitantly called out, hearing the echoes of his shaking greeting as his voice bounced around.

There was no response of any kind.

Paul huffed, shifting his hands onto his hips, "Why, how simply heartwarming." 

Paul's sarcasm was interrupted by a shifting among the 'shrooms that sounded incredibly similar to the moving of feet.

"Hugh?" Paul questioned the identity of whatever stood among the P. stellaviatori.

Though, what stepped out and greeted him was not at all Hugh.

"Why hello, Paul. How very nice of you to finally stop by."


End file.
